


Equal in Ireland

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [223]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Irish eyes are smiling," thanks to marriage equality in the Emerald Isle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equal in Ireland

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia
> 
> References:  
> [When Irish Eyes Are Smiling](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/When_Irish_Eyes_Are_Smiling)  
> [Christmas in Williamsburg (Revised)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276173)
> 
> To Mali

  
  
[Helen](mailto:hsv@comcast.net)'s beautiful montage  


Quinn popped the cork of the celebratory bottle of Crystal champagne they'd bought that very afternoon at Adegan's Market.

He could not think of a better time to drink it. The monumental victory that day in his ancestral homeland was the best reason for a toast since Ian and he had renewed their vows in 2011. He poured the champagne into the Waterford flutes his parents had gifted them with on their third anniversary. A smile as wide as County Cork graced his face when he handed one of the glasses to Ian.

"To the passage of marriage equality in Ireland, laddie!" Quinn's eyes sparkled as he raised his flute and clinked it with Ian's. "Erin go bragh!" (Ireland forever!)

"Erin go bragh!" Ian echoed in delight.

They relaxed on the couch with their drinks, enjoying their conversation with the television on in the background. One of the most rousing sights was a rainbow over Dublin, photographed while people were actually voting.

"When you were getting the mail, Aunt Maureen called to say that more than 70% of the folks voted yes in Dublin North West, her part of the county," Quinn said, feeling like their whole extended family had their backs.

"That's wonderful!" Ian took a healthy sip in honor of this marvelous news.

The effervescence of the champagne perfectly suited their mood. They were both exhausted, yet exhilarated, having stayed up most of the night to track the election results. The news was better than they could have imagined. 62% of the voters had passed the referendum legalizing gay marriage in Ireland, making it the first time that an entire country approved marriage equality by popular vote. Quinn had never been prouder to be an Irish American.

Both sets of parents, Monty's little family, their uncles and aunts, friends, neighbors, and colleagues -- all had called or stopped by on that happy Saturday afternoon, a seemingly never-ending Pride parade of sorts. Even the puppies had been friskier than usual, yipping and jumping into their dads' laps until they wore themselves out, and were now sleeping in their baskets. So this evening, Ian and Quinn were a curious blend of bone-tired and happy to the bone.

Ian sighed in contentment. "Artoo's lucky this weekend. I heard Lelia telling Han that she's too grown up now to put your St. Paddy's Day hat -- you know, the green felt leprechaun one -- on Artoo to celebrate."

Quinn laughed. "So even our puppy's happy."

They sat back on the couch, watching the celebrations around Dublin Castle, feeling like they were there. Rainbow flags flew proudly over the square, with "Equal" signs everywhere. Gay and straight couples --and everyone in between -- kissed in jubilation. The crowd cheered and clapped as balloons of all colors bobbed in the breeze. Everyone's spirits were as buoyant as the balloons.

While Quinn and Ian sipped their champagne, they basked in the euphoria and felt it themselves. Entranced by the stories of lovers and those that dreamed of love, they cuddled into one another and tasted the Crystal from each other's lips.

"It's a proper party they're havin'," rumbled Quinn, when he saw dancing spontaneously break out on the cobblestones.

"And we're all invited," Ian said mischievously.

Quinn was an expert at taking Ian's hints, so he put his drink on the side table. He also took Ian's flute out of his hand with a knowing wink and set it next to his own. "We have better things to do with our hands, lad."

Thankful that they wore only polo shirts and shorts, and that their feet were already as bare as those of the hobbits they loved, Ian pulled his husband even closer now. "Mo fhear-cheile," he whispered, deliberately using the Irish word for 'husband', rather than the Scottish, 'guid-man', which he usually favored.

Quinn noticed the special endearment instantly and answered it with another Irish phrase, "A mhuirnin dilis." (My own true love) He rested his chin, with its evening bristles, on top of Ian's own copper bristles, a match made in hair heaven.

"Oh, Quinn," Ian murmured. He still remembered the balladeer in Colonial Williamsburg, who had sung to them over a magical dinner at the King's Arms Tavern. The refrain had been, "My own true love and me" in English, and, apparently, Ian wasn't the only one with a good memory.

Their kiss rivaled the ones shared by the jubilant couples in Dublin. Their lips were cool with moisture from the champagne. Since theirs was a private kiss, they gave it some extra mustard, which added even more spice to the special occasion.

When Ian stretched up to pull Quinn's shirt over his head, Quinn said, "I feel freer already."

Without missing a beat, Ian answered, "And feel free to return the favor."

Quinn was too happy to groan, so he just took Ian at his word and yanked his lad's shirt off, throwing it on the carpet to nestle with his own. He gazed at Ian's scrumptious chest and stomach, both sculpted to perfection by the still rings, and said, "Pity to cover all of this up." His fingertip barely brushed over the sensitive spot under Ian's right rib.

Ian shivered deliciously. "At least at this time of year, we won't have to."

"Don't give me ideas, me boyo." Just thinking of a shirtless Ian outdoors -- at the pool, on the bike path, in the hammock -- made Quinn salivate. He hugged Ian to him, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against his own.

The air conditioning blew cool over them, just what they needed when things were about to heat up.

"Sit back, handsome," Ian murmured. He got up and locked gazes with Quinn, then unzipped his own shorts one pair of teeth at a time. He could actually see his husband's eyes glazing over more with each row down.

Quinn's hand moved to his shorts seemingly of its own accord. Ian gave him his sexiest grin and reached out to bat his herven's hand away from his zipper.

"I've got it," Ian said in a tone that would tempt the most celibate Jedi Knight. Wearing only a pair of shorts open at the fly and his boxer-briefs, Ian knelt in front of Quinn, knees sinking into the luxurious pile of the carpet. He loved being between his husband's legs, looking up to see that handsome face gazing at him as if he were the last drop of water in all of Mos Eisley.

It didn't seem possible to take any longer to unzip a pair of shorts than Ian already had, but Quinn had learned never to underestimate his lad's ingenuity, and he was right. Ian acted as if they were living in geologic time. Quinn's cock hardened with each tug downward, and Ian gulped in surprise when Quinn's erection came surging out of his shorts before Ian could finish unzipping them. Fortunately, the thick cotton of his boxer-briefs protected vulnerable skin from metal. Both men gasped at the same time.

"Well, someone's ready to play," drawled Ian.

"That I surely am, me boyo," Quinn said in a voice as raspy as the metal zipper.

Since Ian was already on his knees, with Quinn's cotton-clad penis all but in his face, his next move seemed obvious. But Ian's middle name was mischief, so he caught Quinn's eye and licked a long line up his husband's inner thigh, from his knee to a whisker short of Quinn's straining erection. The big man was trembling now, waiting for the touch that hadn't come.

"Please..." Quinn managed to get out between puffs of breath.

Never able to resist that imploring tone, Ian took Quinn's penis out of its pouch, which was drizzled with pre-come and got his fingers sticky. He licked them off, almost making his herven vibrate off of the couch. With a grin, he touched his lips to the very tip of Quinn's cock, then started lapping up the droplets seeping out. He sucked the tip into his mouth and used his tongue to dab the glans. A deep groan was his reward.

Ian had to stop to pull his own cock out of his underwear; no wonder they had to buy new boxer-briefs every couple of years -- the fabric inevitably thinned under the pressure of erections desperate to be free. He palmed it but didn't stroke it; he already felt too close to coming just from suckling Quinn.

The sight of his lad palming himself took Quinn's attention away from his own erection for a moment; he gazed raptly at Ian's hand and the tantalizing glimpses of Ian's hardened flesh. When Ian took his hand away, Quinn surged forward to the edge of the couch, getting on his knees in front of his husband, with his legs cradling Ian's. He kissed Ian, savoring the taste of himself on his laddie's lips, and rubbed his cock against Ian's. Fireworks were less explosive than this combination. Talk about potent! Ian moved with Quinn in an impromptu dance, his hips swiveling in a way that would put Elvis to shame.

Quinn's huge hand covered most of their cocks, and Ian's fingers cupped the rest of them. They fell into rhythm effortlessly, an up and down dragging motion that drove them wild. There was so much pre-come lubricating their flesh that it seemed like one of them had come already.

With their free hands, they played with any bit of skin they could reach -- the tempting curve of a shoulder; the tiny cup of a navel; the sweet sweep of a waistline. But most of their attention was concentrated on their joined erections. When he couldn't hold back anymore, Ian reached up to kiss Quinn just as he started to come. His orgasm triggered Quinn's, and they kissed their way through all of the aftershocks.

Quinn gave him the biggest smile of the day as he rose and pulled his laddie up to head for the shower.

Ian couldn't resist giving his husband a serenade to celebrate, complete with adapted lyrics:

"When Irish eyes are smiling, sure 'tis like a 'day' in spring."


End file.
